Some
people make more of an impression on you than others. Sally Fielding
who died last January aged 36 was one of these. I met her for the
first time in 1995 when I was giving a talk at a Life in the Spirit
Seminars New Hall School in Essex. She was one of the organising team,
a young woman in her late 20s, very bubbly and enthusiastic. She had
recently had a powerful conversion experience and was full of it all.
I remember her big hair and big earrings and I wondered if she would
be able to stick it for the long haul.
But stick it she did and our paths crossed several times over the
ensuing years and I was able to share in something of her journey
with the Lord. Sally had quite a story. The youngest of three children,
her mother Rita was very devout, and had the children say the rosary
every night before they went to bed. This laid such solid foundations
in Sally's psyche that even in her most rebellious phase, when she
was living in a squat in Amsterdam with a heroin addict, she would
wear her rosary beads round her neck and say a decade before she went
to sleep.
Sally the Punk Rocker
Although
Sally was a very outgoing and jolly teenager she wanted to be different
and to be noticed. She decided to become a punk rocker at 15 years
old, dyed her hair orange and stuck half a dozen earrings in her ear.
Then telling her parents that she was going on a school trip, she
went off to Switzerland for a holiday with ten lads. Here she met
the man of her dreams and decided not to come home. Her parents were
beside themselves.
Although she did eventually come home a few weeks later, before long
she was off again. This time to Holland where she stayed with the
family of a musician from a punk band, who died later from an overdose.
Her life seemed to be a constant search for the elusive Mr Right who
would make her feel good about herself. Her mother remembers, "She
was never happy unless she had a boyfriend, but as soon as she did
if they started to get too serious she felt trapped and would move
on."
She was never happy unless she had a boyfriend, but as soon as she
did, if they started to get too serious she felt trapped and would
move on"
The clothes might have changed as she graduated from the punk rock
look to Dallas style glamour but as her 20s passed she never seemed
to find what she was looking for. Then in 1994 Sally's aunt somehow
persuaded the girls of the family that they should accompany her to
the New Dawn conference.
A traditional Catholic, Sally initially found the experience of people
being prayed over and the accompanying phenomena very strange, but
was reassured by the presence of so many priests and bishops. Later
in the week at one of the workshops led by an American priest Fr Bob
Faricy, she witnessed a deliverance. This had a powerful effect on
her. Rita remembers, "She told me that seeing it made her believe
in the reality of evil, but also the power and love of God. I'm sure
the man who it happened to must have been very embarrassed but it
was a turning point for her spiritually and she never looked back."
On their return Sally and her mother and sister joined a prayer group
at New Hall School. It wasn't enough for Sally, however, and she wanted
something more. She visited the Sion community, which was quite near,
a few times and it was at a Mass here that she suddenly felt God call
her to join the community and become part of their evangelistic missions.
Here she was forced to confront her fears and insecurities. Simon
Penhaligan, one of her friends at the community comments. "She
was petrified at standing up and addressing a crowd, but she learnt
to do it, because she wanted to evangelise and tell them about Jesus.
She was at her happiest though in small group work, sharing with teenagers
and encouraging them in their faith."
Sally in the convent
During this four years on the road she grew a lot spiritually and
began to feel the pull to the religious life. She always loved the
Blessed Sacrament and feeling a deeper drawing to prayer she wondered
if she was being called to the contemplative life. Impressed by the
Dominicans at St Joseph in Lymington, she applied to be a novice with
them in the autumn of 1999. I remember meeting her a few months before
she entered. She loved the long white habits of the nuns, she confided,
but couldn't stand the shapeless novices' navy pinafore dress which
was going to be a real penance. "What I do for the Lord!"
she giggled.
The disciplined, highly structured life at the convent not for her,
however, and she was not happy. One day, six months later, when a
friend came to visit, she packed her bags on impulse and hitched a
lift home with him. If her time in the convent had been difficult,
however, it had also been spiritually fruitful as both she and others
acknowledged. She returned more humble and open to fit in with others.
She worked for a few months in the laundry at the Sion Community's
headquarters in Brentwood while she discerned what to do next.
Cancer strikes
With her mother's Irish background she was an obvious choice for
the new mission to Ireland that the community were planning and she
decided to join the founder Fr Pat Lynch and Sr Agnes in setting up
the first house there. She was determined that this should be in Knock
and prayed and cajoled and worked until this came about. The workmen
renovating the house Sion were given were entranced with her and the
way she managed to get hoards of young people in to say the rosary
with her. Her maverick background enthusiasm and directness endeared
her to everyone she came into contact with. Thus it was a great shock
in January 2001 when it was discovered when she came home at Christmas
that she had a cancerous tumour in her side.
The final year of her life can be seen as a catalogue of mistakes
and delays on the part of the very pressurised national health service,
but her mother Rita is not bitter. "It was all in the Lord's
hands and it was amazing how there would always be something good
that would happen in it all." Throughout it all the family was
flooded with love from many people. Rita remembers, "We must
have about 400 cards at least in bags upstairs that Sally received
during her illness from people. It was such a support to her and to
me, when I took up her breakfast tray and there would always be a
letter or two from people, encouraging her."
Never particularly brave, Sally was given the grace to bear each
new disappointment as it came. Rita comments, "She would offer
everything up. I remember once when she was in excruciating pain because
they hadn't given her enough anaesthetic while they were putting a
drain in her kidney, she just said, "well I've had my side pierced
now like Jesus".
She was supported it in all by her mother who looked after her night
and day for that year. Rita says, " I told her that I would be
with her right to the end and I was." Last September it seemed
that her chemotherapy treatment had worked and she was given the all
clear.
Her family and friends rejoiced at this seemingly miraculous answer
to prayer, but Sally was still in pain. The hospital felt this was
just psychosomatic and did nothing. When she was brought in, it was
found that the cancer had spread all over her organs and there was
nothing to be done. She deteriorated rapidly in the next few weeks
and was in such pain that her mother was beside herself not knowing
what to do. A Macmillan doctor came to visit and seeing the state
she was in had her admitted to the local hospice. "It was just
wonderful," says Rita, "the peace of the place, after what
we had been through." Nine days later Sally died.
She was always evangelising. Even in the hospice when she was conscious
enough to speak
Her mother remembers, "She was always evangelising though. Even
in the hospice, when she could speak. She even taught one of the nurses
to say the rosary." Mother and daughter planned Sally's funeral
together. "She was determined that it should be a celebration,"
remembers Rita. "and it was"
The coffin went out to Jo Boyce's rendering of "the Magnificat"
and the congregation sang Sally's favourite hymn "Jesus, you
are the centre.."
Goodnews July/August 2002
